Mostly I don’t remember my dreams.
I feel as though I have gone months, maybe years without dreaming. Certainly without remembering having dreamt anything.
I’ve wondered if I’m odd in my dreamlessness. If I’m alone in this world with a quiet head full of nothingness in my sleep.
And then there are nights like the movies. Nights without a break in the action. Nights where the dreams come like waves, ceaseless and relentless.
Where you wake up with your head underwater and you gasp for air between the troughs only to be submerged again.
Like opening your eyes in the depths to the sting of salt water, the disorienting dark and the shapes like monsters in the deep.